Love Me Like I'm Human
by MyIncentive
Summary: They would have to start from scratch, for the first time. Her goal was set: to teach Sephiroth how to love. When the time comes for that love to be tested, will he have enough of a heart to save her… to save his own mother?
1. Chapter 1

**Love Me Like I'm Human**

**Summary: **(Because no bad guy was born that way.) They would have to start from scratch, for the first time. Her goal was set: to teach Sephiroth how to love. When the time comes for that love to be tested, will he have enough of a heart to save her… to save his own mother?

**Disclaimer: **I own naught of FFVII, for it is owned by the one and only Square Enix.

**A/N: **Non-compliant with AC. In favour of postponing exam prep _again_, I came up with this little idea about Lucrecia and Sephiroth, wanting to explore the boundaries of the love they never shared, and hopefully this fic will do that some justice. Rated T.

* * *

_**Chapter One**_

_Dear Planet..._

_Heed my plea... give me one last chance to salvage the broken remains that is my son's spirit..._

_His life lacked the love every child deserves to have... he doesn't know that someone still thinks of him very dearly..._

_So let us reunite... let us start over... _

_Please, dear Planet, I beg of you..._

_Heed this pitiful mother's plea, and take me back to my son..._

Somewhere on the land of Gaia, a sparkling tear trailed down the cold cheek of a woman encased within crystallized Mako, and one less scream from the cries of the damned was silenced.

_xLxMxLxIxHx_

That smell. It was almost... strange, yet enticingly familiar. What was it?

He raised his nose a little higher without completely lifting his head off... whatever it was that he was lying on, sniffing the air hesitantly. Whatever it was, it smelt good. Maybe it was worth investigating the source. Slowly, he pried open one eyelid, and in doing so sat up immediately.

Alien surroundings. Obviously it was a house or a cottage he was in; just a simple room, with basic furnishings. The walls and ceiling were plain and colourless, with a small open window off to the side, battered shutters swinging back and forth in the wind. Past the window he could see a dark brooding sky, stormy gray tinged with deep purple. Soft, pitter-patter sounds drummed somewhere outside on the roof, and as his face turned upward he felt an unwelcome drop of water slide down his cheek. It seemed that the place was in total disrepair, giving the impression that it had long been since abandoned.

Sliding off on what had turned out to be a bed, he proceeded to further inspect the room, pausing here and there, not daring to touch any of the things he came across, for they were all well coated in dust and he loathed to leave any telltale signs of disturbance. However, as he came to stand in front of a life-size mirror that was leaning on the side of a chest of drawers, he couldn't help but move closer to blow the dust off its cracked surface, inadvertently causing him to cough a little.

There staring solemnly back at him, was a young boy around the age of ten or eleven, with washed-out green eyes and pallid hair, dressed in an oversized shirt and dark pants. And then it struck him:

_Who was he?_

He didn't recognise himself. Was that a cause for concern? Taking at first a moment to absorb the sight of himself in the mirror, slowly did he reach forward with long, pale fingers, then froze.

Footsteps. Somebody was coming.

After a short pause, the boy whirled around and dived headfirst under the bed. No, it wasn't fear that drove him to do it; quick-thinking made him come to the conclusion that he wanted to have the upper hand in seeing who this person was before they saw _him_. The bed just happened to be the first good hiding spot that jumped to mind.

As the door creaked open, in came another waft of that smell. With bated breath he watched a pair of feet — very feminine feet — make their way carefully into the room, coming to a standstill right in front of him. A gasp sounded somewhere from up above the bed. He guessed that the person was a woman, though he couldn't be entirely sure; the person was standing a little too far to the left for him to catch their reflection in the mirror, and he didn't want to risk being spotted peeking out from under the bed.

He had to admit it though, his actions... they were kind of childish. But he _was_ a kid, wasn't he?

Still lying there waiting, yet another wave of that smell hit his nostrils, and then he realised it for what it was: it was the smell of food. Loudly his stomach rumbled in accordance.

Oh no. Did the person hear that?

One second, two seconds, three seconds passed. It was okay. He wasn't heard. He was still—

The sudden appearance of a face only a hair's-breadth away from his own made him cease all thought. Surprised, he jumped and hit his head on the hard, wooden underside of the bed, and winced.

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry I scared you — are you okay?" The woman spoke in a soft, gentle voice. She reached an arm out towards him. Immediately he scrambled backwards, far away from the woman's hand. He didn't know why, but he didn't want to be touched. The woman had indeed scared him, albeit briefly, and the last thing he wanted to do was let her get near him.

"You... you don't want to come out?" She looked at him, almost pleadingly, hand still outstretched towards him. He merely stared at the offered hand, then up at her, with no response to give.

"I made breakfast for you."

Still he stared, and after what had seemed like almost an eternity, she silently withdrew her hand back, looking off to the side.

"Whenever you are ready, I will be waiting, and so will your food." And with that she was gone, leaving him huddled up underneath the bed. As soon as he thought it was safe, he brought his hand up to rub the sensitive lump that was forming over his head. Did she really have to just suddenly appear like that?

His stomach rumbled again. He was really hungry, but he was too stubborn to get out from under the bed. Breakfast or not, he didn't find the idea of sharing company an appealing one. He would much rather just be alone. The hunger could be suppressed. He didn't need food; he could live by on just his will to survive. Yes, he didn't need that woman... or the breakfast she made him... he was better... than that...

Slowly his head hit the bare, cold stone floor.

...He didn't need... any... one...

His eyes droop closed.

_xLxMxLxIxHx_

The hunger. It was too much... almost painful. With a low growl the boy woke up from his brief doze, and almost hit his head again, forgetting where he was. He sent dust particles into the air as he crawled out from under the bed, making himself sneeze. Resigned to finally giving in to his stomach's whims, he moved with measured steps, out through the door and into the short hallway. He passed two other rooms, a bathroom and another bedroom, slightly smaller than his. So that woman... she lived here too?

Feeling too ravenous to follow up on that thought, he eventually found himself at the end of the hallway, staring into a room that contained a small wooden table and two chairs, one of them occupied. On the table was a bowl, and next to it, a single spoon. Warily he moved forward and sat down on the other chair. The woman, whose gaze was previously fixed out through the window, turned its direction to him. She smiled.

"About time you came out. I was getting worried." He forced himself to repress a snort. Getting worried? What, for him? Silently he picked up the spoon and began to eat, refraining from simply just grabbing the bowl and shoving the whole lot down his throat. The food turned out to be porridge, and cold porridge at that. It didn't matter though; he could barely even taste it, he was eating it that fast. At some point near the end of finishing his late breakfast, he was beginning to sense the woman's eyes on him, and he had the feeling that they never left his form since the moment he seated himself opposite to her. It was making him edgy.

Deciding to make known his discomfort to her, he dropped his spoon with a loud _clang_ and pointedly looked up into her face. Caught in the act of staring, the woman looked away guiltily, cheeks flushing a pale pink. She resumed looking out through the window, at the rain that was yet to stop, while he turned back to his food, no longer hungry. Instead he chose to discreetly study the woman and her features, all the while pretending to be immersed with his porridge.

Pretty. She was definitely pretty; a well defined brow, straight nose, slender neck. Not a blemish in sight. Most of her dark brown hair was tied back, fringe parted rather bizarrely to the sides, somewhat akin to his. At the base of her throat lied a white pearl necklace, complementing the similarly coloured blouse she wore. But what struck him the most was not the beauty she possessed, but rather how _frail_ it made her seem, as if one slight touch would spontaneously shatter her into a million pieces.

"Are you full now?"

The boy was about to look up at her only to realise he already was; now it was _her_ turn to catch him in the act of staring. Quickly he looked back down at his bowl, and found that while absentmindedly playing with his spoon, he had scooped most of the remains of his porridge over the side and onto the table. Oops.

"Don't worry about that, I'll clean it up." Wordlessly he watched her leave the table and head off into the kitchenette opposite the hallway, reappearing a short moment later with a damp cloth. Wiping away the mess he made, she dropped the cloth into the bowl, glanced at him, then reached for the tissue box near the edge of the table. As soon as he saw that hand coming towards his face, he leaned back far on his chair, giving her a weird look.

The woman frowned. "There's a bit of porridge on your cheek," she said. "If you will let me, I can wipe it off."

Just as the hand holding the tissue came for a second try, the boy turned his face away, still reluctant. It happened again, then several more times. He was _almost_ beginning to enjoy playing this strange little game with her when she finally got him on the side of the face. He cringed as the hand attacked him with the tissue, rubbing away the crusty bit of food that was stuck to him. "There, all clean now."

Taking the bowl away, the woman was just about to leave the room again when he finally decided to speak up for the first time.

"Who are you?"

The woman paused in her steps, slowly turning around to meet his curious gaze.

There was a slight hesitation. "Miss Lucy... my name, is Miss Lucy."

"Who am I?"

Another short pause. "Seph."

"Is that it? Just... 'Seph'?"

"Yes." Before he could say anything more, she abruptly turned and left.

Seph... that was his name. Staring after the doorway in where the woman disappeared through, Seph wondered if she had anything to do with his lack of memories, of not being able to recall anything past the point before waking up that morning. Funnily enough, though, he wasn't sure if he even really wanted to know; a deep, subconscious feeling was telling him he was better off if he didn't ask.

For now, he would listen to that feeling, and question no more. For now.

_xLxMxLxIxHx_

In the kitchenette, Lucrecia rested Seph's bowl next to hers on the drying rack, turning to wipe her hands on a tea towel nearby. Judging from the silence coming from the other room, Seph was still mulling over her words. Or maybe not. The boy was quiet, way too quiet for her liking, and it was difficult to determine his thoughts from the deadpan expression on his face. _It never changed._ Did he even have the ability to _feel _anymore? For both of their sakes, she very much hoped so.

Miss Lucy... she rather liked the name she made up for herself. Surely it wasn't _that _much of a giveaway; as long as Seph didn't know either of their real, full names, or their relation to each other, then there would be less of a chance of him remembering his past life. He wasn't ready for that yet.

Walking back into the tiny dining room to see two empty chairs, Lucrecia started to panic. Where was he? She hurried to the front door and opened it to see if he went outside, but it was still pouring, and there were no tracks leading out from the door. With mounting alarm she rushed down the hallway, checking every room, until at last she found him by the doorway of his room, just standing there. He turned at the sound of her approach.

"Will I be sleeping in this room?" he asked.

She came to stand by his side, leaning heavily on the doorframe, relieved. "Yes," she replied, a little breathlessly.

"Well, the bed's wet."

Lucrecia glanced at the bed Seph previously slept in before, and saw the soaked stain on the sheets. She looked back at Seph, mouth half-open in preparation of berating him for not telling her sooner what he did but stopped when he pointed at the ceiling. "There's a leak up there."

She looked up. "Oh." Ignoring the dry look Seph was giving her as if he knew what she was thinking, she proceeded further into the room, eyes probing for the spot where the leak was coming from. Found it. Both she and Seph watched as a tiny droplet of water soundlessly made its downward descent, landing with a little _splat _onto the bed.

"Hmm."

This could be a problem. A biotechnologist she once was, however when it came to making repairs, she knew naught. "Seph, can you please come over here for a moment?"

He joined her by the bed. "Help me push the bed to the side, and then we'll sort out our little leak problem."

Placing both hands firmly on the side of the bed, Lucrecia leaned forward and looked to Seph to see if he was doing the same. He wasn't.

"Seph?" she prompted. Silence. Then, a strangled noise, like that of a half-grunt, half-sigh. Two more hands appeared next to hers.

"Okay, ready? One, two, three!" They pushed, and after a moment of resistance, the bed yielded to their efforts, sliding across the floor with a screech. Straightening back up again, Lucrecia pulled the damp bed sheets off, bunching it in her arms.

Heading for the hallway, she said to Seph as she went, "I'm just going to hang this to dry in the bathroom — do you think you could find a bucket around here somewhere while I'm at it? We need to stop the leak from making a puddle on the floor." When she came back with a new change of bed sheets, she found him to be in the same exact position as he was in several minutes ago.

Biting back a sigh, Lucrecia decided to play the act a little longer. "So, did you find the bucket?"

"No."

"Did you even _try_ to find the bucket?"

Seph tilted his head to the side. "...Yes."

Okay, she would let him off the hook this time; the next time, on the other hand...

Dumping the fresh pile of bed sheets onto the bed, she strode back out of the room, returning shortly afterwards with the sorely needed item. To her surprise, the pile of linen she left behind had been smoothened out and fitted neatly around the bed, Seph sitting atop of it. Lowering the bucket directly underneath the leak, she smiled her appreciation at him.

Maybe there really was a chance for them to get closer, after all.

Noticing the open shutters blowing in the wind that were making quite a racket, Lucrecia made her way to the window and reached out to close them, briefly exposing herself to the rain. Gosh it was cold out there.

In from behind her, a long yawn sounded. Seph was tired already? Well, now that she thought on it, she was feeling rather worn-out herself. Moving towards the door, she turned back to see Seph watching her.

"I think it's time we should settle ourselves in for an early night, don't you agree?" He nodded.

Grasping the door handle, she murmured, "Good night, Seph," before pulling it shut behind her.

She didn't know if she got a response back.

_xLxMxLxIxHx_

It was midnight, it was dark, and in the small dwelling housed for two, terror seized Lucrecia's heart. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

Ripping the covers off her body, she raced out of the room and into the hallway. She could hear it: the earth-shattering screams mingling with the howling of the wind. Slamming Seph's bedroom door open, Lucrecia gasped as she took in the nightmarish sight before her.

"No—" The mirror that used to lie against the chest of drawers had fallen and smashed onto the floor, glittering pieces of glass lying everywhere. "No..." The shutters she had closed before were thrown wide back and swinging wildly on their hinges, letting the violent winds force their way into the small room, plaster peeling away at the walls. "No!" And in the midst of it all, there lied Sephiroth, her son, thrashing and writhing on the bed, screaming for all he was worth. The sound was so deafening Lucrecia had to cover her ears.

It was truly frightening. As she forced herself to step forward, Seph's eyes, which were wide open, suddenly swiveled onto her, pale green orbs haunting her, daring her to come closer. Knees visibly shaking, it was all Lucrecia could do to not just curl up into herself and hide from those eyes, and those screams...

"Seph, it's okay, I'm here," she whispered, tears of fright and sadness rolling down her cheeks as she tried to get past his flailing limbs. Without warning, a ghostly arm struck her hard in the side, sending her backwards into the wall. Stunned and in pain, Lucrecia could only watch as her son continued to scream and kick aimlessly, eventually subsiding into silence, body calm and still. It seemed as if the storm had died down along with Seph's lapse into sleep. Ever so slowly, she lifted herself to her feet and picked up the blanket that had been tossed off the bed, throwing it over Seph's ashen form and tucking it in around him. With careful steps, Lucrecia treaded out of the room and closed the door, her back leaning against it. Bit by bit she slid down the door until she reached the floor. She wept.

* * *

**A/N: **Review?


	2. Chapter 2

**Love Me Like I'm Human**

**Disclaimer: **I own naught of FFVII, for it is owned by the one and only Square Enix.

**A/N: **Sorry for the long gap between the two. I just found the intro to be a pain in the butt to write, so I kind of held off for a while until my conscience was starting to grate on my nerves. The reason why I chose "Seph" for Sephiroth wasn't because it's in popular usage with the fans, but because it was just a convenient option, plus most readers would find it easier to associate it with Sephiroth's name. Either way I'm not going to change it now. Me too lazy. :p

Anyway, without further ado – chapter two. :)

* * *

_**Chapter **__**Two**_

_Please, don't cry. _

_That was more than a typical nightmare – what have you done to him? _

_I'm sorry. But it is not of our doing. He is recollecting flashes of his previous life that were too deeply ingrained into his memory for us to remove. He will forget it by morning._

_Will he go through this every night?_

_We don't know._

_xLxMxLxIxHx_

When Lucrecia came around, she was in her bed, the covers drawn over her prone form. She had no recollection of making the trip from Seph's bedroom. Feeling her eyelids glued together by last night's tears, Lucrecia wearily rubbed away at them. Her vision was a distorted blur of green and gray. As the colours settled back into their rightful places, two large unblinking eyes came into focus. Startled, Lucrecia emitted a loud gasp and rolled back, almost falling off the bed in a tangle of limbs and sheets.

"Seph! Wha–what are you doing standing there?"

Seph offered her a small shrug.

"You weren't waiting for me to wake up, were you?"

Again, she received another shrug. Aside from his disheveled hair and his extremely pale complexion, Seph appeared to be much the same as the day before. It seemed that the woman's words from Lucrecia's dream held truth; Seph didn't remember the events from last night. Relief coursed throughout her. Gently Lucrecia reached out a hand to place on Seph's shoulder.

"Oh hun, you could have just – _oh my God!_"

Lucrecia's gaze had moved down onto the floor where Seph's feet were standing in a small pool of blood. A connected trail of red footprints led into the room from beyond the doorway. She balked. Subconscious fears spawned by the infamous tales of the One They Feared were coming to light for the first time, fears she wasn't aware of before unveiling around her, sending all logical reasoning in scattered directions. No. _No._ Impossible. No one else was around, how could this be – the sword, where was the sword? The body? It was happening all over again. Had she really been wrong all along as to believe she could've changed his ways – no, this was too much, too soon.

Lucrecia clambered out of bed, commanded the boy to stay put (_Don't. Move_), and went to follow the footprints, tightly fastening the robe around her. The place was so damn cold. Cautiously she stepped into Seph's room, eyes narrowing in bafflement. All the contents of the room had virtually been torn asunder, but one quick glance revealed nothing of immediate importance to her.

She took another step forward and gasped in pain.

Half of the floor was sprinkled with glass.

_Of course._

How careless of her to have forgotten all about the shattered mirror. Gingerly Lucrecia turned and made her way back to her own room. She strode past Seph to pull up a chair and sat down. Reaching forward she patted the bed, gesturing for him to sit on it. Seph complied. His legs dangled over the edge, the steady sound of blood dripping onto the floor ringing in her ears.

"Lift your feet up onto my lap for me, Seph."

She didn't take notice of the thorough soaking of her clothes, nor the feeling of something warm and wet coming into contact with her thighs. There were roughly a dozen glittering fragments of glass embedded in each foot he'd presented her with. Guilt, disgust and horror all burned away at her, leaving behind the heavily scorched resolve of a mother who _thought _she knew what she was doing. To think, for one inglorious moment, while staring at her son with images of him butchering faceless figures consuming her mind, he was staring back as his own life source was seeping through the floorboards.

_What next, Lucrecia? Going to be resorting to violence when he disobeys your orders now?_

What a monster she was. Who else in all planes of existence could a son depend on to be given an unbiased judgment of him, if not his own mother?

Lucrecia was yet to hear Seph make a sound of anguish. Standing on glass couldn't have been an easy feat… just how high exactly was his threshold of pain? She found out when she tried to pull one of the fragments from the sole of his foot.

Seph snarled and yanked his feet back, what little trust shown in his eyes gone. Lucrecia regretted not explaining earlier to him of what she had to do. She wasn't sure on how the laws of this world worked, if dying was even possible, but she couldn't stand to see him in such a state, bleeding profusely. She liked to imagine that no mother would. "Please Seph, I need to look at your feet. They're bleeding."

The first tentative tendrils of whatever relationship she had progressed with her son the day before had disintegrated. When she reached for his foot he pulled it further out of her reach, rewarding her with the baring of small incisors.

"Now now, don't be like that. Miss Lucy only wants to help –" As soon as she stood up Seph hopped off the bed and dashed past the door.

Despite his obvious impediment, Lucrecia definitely had one thing ascertained: the boy was a fast runner. It certainly wasn't passed on from her genes, she thought as she vainly tried to catch up with him. Through the hallway, around the corner, and out the front door she ran, spotting him vanishing into the woods that flanked the cottage.

"Seph!" she called out. "Seph, come back!"

No reply. Sighing in exasperation, Lucrecia pressed onward. From first glance one wouldn't have expected entering the woods to be such a difficult task to undertake, but, strangely enough, she discovered otherwise. Gnarled shrubs snaked around her ankles. Thick tree boughs barred access, their supports densely packed together. Hidden tree roots tripped her many times over, while small twigs and stems got caught in her hair. Lucrecia allowed a crazy thought to pass through her head; it was almost as if the woods were _trying _to keep her out.

_You're right._

"Huh?" Lucrecia ceased her efforts in trying to advance past the border, gazing around to find the source of the voice.

_If your little one wills it, the woods will oblige._

It was Her. The woman from her dreams.

"I thought you only appeared to me in my dreams."

_What makes you so sure that _this _isn't a dream?_

Lucrecia fell silent. She didn't know the answer to that question.

_Remember last night's storm?_

She did.

_And your little one? Do you remember how he acted?_

With all the clarity of the present. A memory she wasn't going to easily forget anytime soon.

"What is your point?"

_Think. Would I ask such questions if there was no relevance behind it?_

And so Lucrecia pondered. A storm unlike any other she had been through raged over the little cottage that past night, its wild, driving gales very nearly blowing the roof off. The walls quaked and the shutters shrieked for mercy, but Lucrecia would never forget the ear-splitting screams of her son as she quite literally walked into a miniature vortex of icy wind and rain with him at the centre. Everything else was left in chunks and shards, fragments and pieces. The remarkable occurrence of both Seph's nightmare and the storm reaching their pinnacle at the same time hadn't even struck her as bizarre until now. They had even ended in sync, and she had been so concerned with her son only that she failed to notice. Just what kind of strange world was this?

_You already know the answer to that._

Maybe, but it appeared to be that some of the finer details had been left out. Lucrecia could still – barely she would admit – recall the events that followed after her plea. She honestly hadn't expected it to be answered, or even heard. Hope had dwindled through the years, and her crystalline confinement made for cold comfort when thoughts wandered through blurred visions of a life that could have been, visions of one she could have shared with her son. Then They came. They came, hearing her plea, and finally took her away. Her plea was granted, and for that she was forever in Their debt. The first time Lucrecia laid eyes on her son, not as the baby she briefly saw before passing out in post-childbirth exhaustion, or as the frightening man she had foreseen during her pregnancy, but as a young boy, slumbering peacefully under the gentle undertones of light trickling through the window – she cried. Never had she experienced such joy, such elation. She wanted to rush up to him, to hold him, hug him, kiss him fiercely on the forehead and tell him she was never going to let anyone take him away from her again. She wanted him to have woken up at that exact moment and see the love for him in her eyes, to realise that someone really did care for him, someone who had cared for him all along.

_A lucky boy, your little one is._

Lucrecia gave a hollow laugh. "No, I'm the lucky one – the lucky enough one to be given this chance to make things right, the way they should have been. Thank you, again."

_You are welcome._

"But… I still don't quite gather your meaning from your previous questions. Would it have something to do with these woods? How am I to find my son if I cannot pass through?" Lucrecia was starting to become anxious.

_Do not worry. He is in good care, and will return when he is ready._

"And if he doesn't? How can you be so sure?"

_Do you not trust us, Lucrecia? _

Lucrecia bit her lip, hoping she hadn't pushed the line somewhere.

"I do, but he's injured! I just need to make sure he's okay!" If something were to happen to him…

_Your little one will be fine. You have my word._

_xLxMxLxIxHx_

Muffled footsteps tore across the forest floor, small huffs of laboured breathing disturbing the tranquil silence. Turning back to see the view of the cottage rapidly disappearing behind wizened trunks and a thick mist floating down from above the canopy, Seph paused and allowed himself to catch his breath. The pain in his feet was brought to his attention upon slowing down, realising how much more it hurt when he wasn't running. He decided to sit down where he was, nestling himself into a comfortable position amid dead foliage and moss. He ran his fingertips lightly across the bloodied and torn skin of his feet, biting back cries of anguish as they rounded the jagged bits of glass stuck in them.

Seph knew how they got in there. The first thing he noticed when he awoke that morning was that his room had all but been razed to the ground. Nothing had been left whole save for him and his bed. He didn't remember it being that way or understood how it came to be, so he left his bed in search of Miss Lucy. He didn't expect the brief stab of pain shooting up through his feet as he realised he was walking over pieces of the full-length mirror he had gazed into only the day before, scattered over most of the floor. Sharp at first, the pain had quickly receded to numbness, which Seph had soon forgotten about entirely. Making his way into Miss Lucy's room, he had stood patiently by her bedside until she had awoken. When she had asked him to lift his feet onto her lap, he thought nothing of it…

That was, until she tried to pull on one of the bits of glass stuck in his feet. How could she _do _that? Didn't she know how much that had hurt him? Confused and angry by her actions, Seph ran out of the room, the cottage, and through the tall trees outside that stretched on as far as the eye could see. He didn't want her trying to pull that stunt again. No no no, he wasn't about to be fooled a second time – definitely not. Ignoring her cries for him to come back, Seph wandered further into the woods. Miss Lucy hadn't chased after him, however, and for some reason that kind of stung. Curiously enough, it was different to the hurting in his feet. More like, a kind of inside-hurt. He didn't like it.

A slight breeze stirred through the trees, fallen leaves swept up in its embrace. As it passed Seph, faint, tinkling laughter echoed all around him.

"Who's there?" he called out.

He didn't get a response, but the breeze returned, tousling his hair and pulling lightly at his clothes. Seph stood up, careful to keep the pressure even on both feet. The breeze turned and headed into the deeper part of the woods, the laughter fading away. Intrigued, Seph followed, bearing the sharp twinges of pain shooting up his legs and keeping his eyes trained on the swirling leaves. The path of the breeze he kept to was erratic, zigzagging over places where the ground was most densely covered. Seph found it to be easier on his feet. After several minutes, just when Seph didn't think he was able to follow any longer, the breeze led him to a glade, where the trees parted to reveal a small brook. The breeze wasn't anywhere to be found, but Seph no longer cared; seeing all that sparkling water reminded him of the long trek he had made and how thirsty he was. Hurryingly he rushed forward and sunk his arms into the crystal clear water, bringing his face down to drink from cupped hands.

The water tasted just as clear and as fresh as it looked. Feeling rejuvenated from the very first mouthful, Seph gulped down a few more, splashing water all over himself in his haste. Afterwards he leant back, clumsily rolling his pants back to his knees so he could dip his legs into the stream. Seph sighed in content, revelling in the feel of his feet swaying in the cool undercurrent. The pain from the glass splinters slowly ebbed away.

He wondered if he should find his way back to the cottage, and if Miss Lucy was still looking for him. He still felt surprised that she hadn't come after him – she sounded very worried when she had called out. Oh well. Miss Lucy probably wasn't worried anymore.

Picking up a nearby pebble, Seph hurled it across the brook, watching it bounce back against the embankment on the other side and hit the water with an abrupt _plop_.

Maybe, maybe he was wrong and she didn't actually mean to have hurt him. Maybe she didn't know that she did. She did look sort of sorry after she had tried to pull out the glass from his foot.

Seph kicked his feet idly in the water, his solemn reflection dissolving away in the ripples. He should probably go back before Miss Lucy forgot about him. She might have already forgotten what he looked like. Even though he had only known her for a day (he still couldn't remember anything beyond yesterday morning), Miss Lucy was the only person he had encountered so far, the only person he had _seen _as of so far. If he was to leave her and the cottage for good, he'd have no where else to go. No cold porridge. No bed. No…

Seph squirmed. He could feel that inside-hurt again.

What if Miss Lucy didn't want him back, though? What if she was angry with him for running off like that? A sudden, alarming thought passed through Seph's mind. What if… she had found herself another boy to live with her in the cottage? Another boy who would sleep in _his _bed, eat the food that was meant for _him_?

Light, feminine laughter filled Seph's ears again. Scrambling to get up, Seph spied the very same breeze leaving the glade, rustling the branches of nearby trees as it moved through them. He ran after it, knowing, just knowing that it would take him back to the cottage.

Miraculously, his feet didn't hurt at all.

_xLxMxLxIxHx_

Shifting the small bedside table upright again, Lucrecia gazed around the room, checking to see if there was anything else left to be done; all the drawers and their contents were back in their rightful places, the shutters fixed and the hinges oiled, and most important of all, the shattered pieces of mirror swept away and disposed of. Satisfied with her effort, Lucrecia left Seph's room and went to check on the pot of soup she had left boiling away in the kitchenette. She had long given up hope of passing through the woods, and instead made use of the time waiting for Seph to return by cleaning up the cottage and preparing lunch. Two bowls were ready on the table.

But Lucrecia was still worried. The voice, the woman from her dreams, left her with information that warranted some serious thinking over. This was her and Seph's combined version of the Promised Land, from their minds' point of view. That she knew. What she didn't know, however, was that it was apparently subject to change according to their mental state. The landscape, the elements, the climate – all acted according to how _they_ felt.

_Be wise to keep this in mind_, She had told her. _Life here is a double-edged condition, where only those who are free of emotional burden will live out their time in true happiness._

Lucrecia wasn't sure what to make of the woman's words, but it explained last night's storm, in any case.

Hearing the front door creak open, she turned around.

"You haven't found another boy to live here yet, have you?"

Caught between wanting to pull her son into a tight hug and asking him what he had eaten in the woods, Lucrecia chose to instead follow Seph as he stormed towards his room without waiting for an answer. After a quick inspection, he spun around and headed back. It was only then Lucrecia remembered the reason for him deserting the cottage in the first place.

"Seph, your feet – let me look at –"

"Who's this bowl for?" he interrupted her, pointing at one of the two bowls she had set on the table. Lucrecia paused in the face of such a peculiar question.

"Why, it's for you of course, unless you want the other bowl." She tried again with her request. "Seph, please, please just let me have a quick look at your feet. It won't hurt this time."

Seph looked doubtful. "Promise?"

"I promise."

He took a seat at the table and faced her, allowing Lucrecia to examine his soles. What she discovered shocked her. _Where did all the glass splinters go?_ Seph's feet were clean and completely bereft of cuts or scratches.

Recalling the woman's words, Lucrecia asked him, "Who healed your feet, Seph?"

Seph blinked down at her. "No one."

"Then what happened to all of the glass in them?"

He shrugged, shifting in his chair to face the table. Deciding to let it go at that, Lucrecia went into the kitchenette to bring out the pot of soup.

By the time she came back out with it, he was already holding his bowl out to her expectantly.


End file.
